


Fight Me

by White_Magician



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Sex, Smut, Training, Vanilla, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Magician/pseuds/White_Magician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hunt went wrong, Dean Winchester, your secret crush, decides to teach you how to fight, but it was not the casual type of training you'd imagined, it was purgatory training. When Dean comes ease the tension between you two, he ends up giving you the time of your life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not the best written fic you could find, but I like it :)  
> Thanks for reading this. Comments are welcome! :)  
> Keep in mind that English is NOT my native language, so there might (and surely will) be errors and grammatical mistakes!  
> Contains mentions of sex and 'language'. You have been warned.
> 
> I recommend for the SMUT part to listen to this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMPNjPpdjKU&list=PLF31575665E806BE2&index=261 ; it's Bad Thing by Jace Everett and it's what I listened to when I wrote the piece ;)

You had always liked Dean. You could even say you loved him heart and soul, even if you were determined to keep this crush a secret from him. He was always kind, funny and you had to admit that you wouldn't mind cuddle against that smoking hot body of his. He protected you the best he could and you were always grateful he was watching over you like a guardian angel. But right now, every cell of your body hated him to the core. Well sort of; bossy Dean was kinda sexy, now that you thought of it.

"BAM!" He shouted after he gave you a punch in the stomach that sent you flying on the ground. "You're dead again! Come on, if you want to survive this life, you've got to toughen up!"

You got up again, wiping the metallic taste on your lips with one hand, and glared at Dean as if he was some sort of military son of a bitch. His idea of training was far, far away from what you had in mind. You'd thought he would teach you push-ups, karate moves, self-defence. You didn't think he would simulate a demonic attack and really go for it. You circled one another, eyes locked together. You rolled your aching shoulder to get the tension out of your system and made the first move, aiming a right hook at his jaw. He ducked the blow, his eyebrows knitted in concentration, and weaved to your left, sending a punch to your ribs. You deflected the blow, taking his arm firmly in your left, pulled him towards you and countered with a knee to his side before releasing him and stepping back, keeping your hands high and in guard. You could hear a breathless "nice one" coming out of his delicious lips before he took out a knife. You gulped when you saw it shining menacingly in his hand. Seeing the game going too far, you said on a quavering tone.

"Dean, I don't think..."

"You don't have time to think in a battle," he cut you. "Your enemy won't give you time to think! Come on, show me what you got!"

Since he had returned for Purgatory, Dean was different. He seemed to be a broken soldier, crueller and more dangerous than he had ever been before. You knew it, but you'd never seen it with your own eyes. You weren't exactly ecstatic to meet that side of him today. But seeing you badly injured after your last hunt triggered something in him. He was adamant that you had to know how to win a fight and was more than willing to teach you what he had learned so far. If only you had known.

"Daydreaming isn't gonna keep you alive, baby! Fight me!" He snapped before attacking you, launching himself forward, ready to plunge the knife in your ribs.

You reacted on pure instinct, stepping aside and blocking his blow with your forearm. For a second, you could see a proud smile spreading across Dean's face. The next, he was a beast again, dominating you and pushing you backwards. You stumbled a bit, surprised by the switch of personalities, and quickly crouched to avoid the blade passing near your face.

"Good," Dean praised you as you deflected another blow with a metallic bar that was lying around. "Take advantage of your environment! Surprise you opponent!"

He was so close that you could feel his breath on your face, his green eyes peering into yours with a glint of excitement. You could clearly see the freckles over his nose, the little wrinkle on the corner of his mouth when his lips stretched in a smirk. You pushed him backwards by kicking him in the knee and took a moment to catch your breath. You were sweating, exhausted and, deep down, afraid that, if you let your guard down, he would hurt you, unintentionally or not. Dean lunched forward and tries to stab you again. You barely had the time to bend yourself backwards when you heard it, the whistling sound of a knife sailing by your face and leaving a small cut on your cheek. Incredulous, you wiped the blood away with a hand and just stood there, looking at it like you could not believe Dean would actually do that. Your eyes grew wider and wider in disbelief when he slipped behind you, pulled you back by the hair and pressed the cold blade against your throat.

"Never, never let anything distract you from the fight. Otherwise... you're dead again."

He released you from his grip and harshly threw forward, making you trip on your own feet and holding you down. Fatigue was getting to you now and you looked up at Dean, who was towering you again.

"Dean, I want to stop now. I can't take it anymore."

"Not until you beat me to my own game, baby." He then seemed to soften a bit after considering your state and adds "One more time. Then you can shower and sleep all you want. Just one more time."

You could see in his eyes, that he was pleading you to continue, to win against him. You didn't know why it was so important to him that you became the perfect fighter, but for him, you slightly nodded. Swiftly, you hooked your leg around his and twist it back. Momentarily off balance, he loosened his grip on your torso and you took full advantage of it to slip free of his grasp by elbowing him. You pulled yourself away and leaped to your feet, your arm aching a bit. Dean chuckled, massaging his chest and nodding approvingly before facing you again.

As you were staring at each other, you heard the metal door of the hangar creaking on its hinges as it opened. Sam was here. Dean cringed as his brother's voice rang loud and clear, his angry tone echoing in the room.

"I knew it! I knew you would go behind my back and do as you please, Dean!"

You saw the younger Winchester approaching you and his older brother, fuming. He scanned rapidly your face to see the extend of your injuries and noticed the cut on your face. He turned to his brother and glared at Dean, bitchface 64 all out.

"Which part of ' don't go Purgatory psycho on her ' don't you understand, Dean?"

"She needs to be prepared," Dean simply answered, in calm and patient remonstrance.

Sam licked his lips, as if he was swallowing back a cutting remark, and sighed deeply, considering his brother knowingly.

"She can defend herself; she's been in the business for more than a year and she saved our ass a few times." Seeing that his words were not going through him, Sam pressed his lips together and then resumed, his tone softer and understanding. "She isn't Jo, Dean. Nor Lisa. "

Dean seemed to freeze, his breath caught in his throat, and turned away, unwilling to let you see what lingered in his eyes. You followed the exchange with a perplexed look. Jo? Lisa? Both brothers seemed now to have forgotten your presence and were staring at each other, talking about you as if you are not there.

"I know, she isn't," Dean slowly replied, his jaw and fists clenched.

"Do you?" Sam insisted, peering closer at his face.

There seemed to be some sort of telepathic conversation you were not aware of, because, soon enough, Dean sighed deeply, closing his eyes and muttering something under his breath. He scratched the back of his neck and finally turned to you, back to his sweet, caring self. You could see all sorts of emotions passing through his eyes: embarrassment, melancholy, shame, anxiety. It seemed to you like he was gauging your reaction to the whole situation. You just smirked at him, trying to come off as casual and lighthearted, even if you had a bad feeling in your guts that you couldn't shake.

"I might forget you're a huge ass if you carry me to the motel."

Dean's face broke into a beautiful, relieved smile as Sam just laughed it off and patted his big brother on the shoulder.

"Deal."

* * *

 

 

You reached down to the bottle of peroxide, looking distractedly at the clean rag in your hand as you poured some of the liquid onto it. You couldn't help but ponder on this mysterious Jo and whoever the other was and on what happened to them. You felt somehow that their fate, be it death or worse, was exactly the reason why Dean behaved like he did. You had seen the despair in his eyes when you fell under his blows, the glint of hope when you got up and fought back with more conviction. He needed you to fight him and to show you wouldn't die that easily. You sighed deeply and hold up a tiny mirror when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," you said, letting your hands fall on your lap.

You were a bit surprised to see Dean entering your room, expecting Sam to be the one to come to see if you were alright. He took a few steps towards you, his eyes drifting to the rag in your hands and the cut on your cheek.

"Hey", you said, bringing his eyes up to yours.

"Hey," he replied with a faint smile. "Need help with that?" He added, pointing to the cloth.

"Yeah, sure."

He sat on the edge of your bed, taking the rag you presented him and began to clean your cut. He muttered a vague "sorry" when you hissed at the burning sensation on your face but remained silent. He was applying some antiseptic cream on the wound when he broke the silence.

"I'm sorry for today. I... stepped out of the line."

"It's okay. I understand."

He fell silent again and put a band aid on your cut, the tip of his fingers gently brushing your skin as he did so. You flushed, your eyes stubbornly down, but you looked up at him when you felt his hands slipping on the nape of your neck, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

"I want you to survive," his voice was hoarse, nearly a whisper. "So many people died because of me... so many were hurt because of what I am... I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you died because of me..."

You should have nodded and taken him in your arm, maybe rocked him into sleep, but you felt the incredible need to just... cut him out before he went full sentimental Ken on you. You put on his cheeks and pinched vigorously until he let you go and cried out a loud "ouch". Rubbing his cheeks, he looked at you, clearly confused, and grumbled a "what the hell?".

"Dean Winchester, you're a freaking idiot!" you said as he frowned at your harsh words. "Don't. You. Dare. Blame. Yourself. If. I. Die. You. Prick!" You uttered, accompanying each word by a slap on his head. For a moment, he seemed a bit taken aback and raised his hands to protect himself. "I know I'm gonna die on a hunt! That's how I want to go! I don't want to rot in a bed! I want the thrill of the fight to be the last thing I feel in my veins! Dying during a hunt isn't your choice, it's mine! If I die protecting you or Sam, it won't be because of you, it will be because of me. It's because I'm a goddamn good hunter and an amazing friend!" Seeing you stopped hitting him, he lowered his hands, eyes locked in yours and mouth opened in disbelief. You couldn't tell what was going on in his mind, but you continued your ranting anyway. "I want my death to mean something! Don't you dare take that away from me! If you mistake my freaking heroic death for a pathetic, selfless sacrifice, I will come haunt your ass and kick it until it comes out of your mouth! Capiche?"

Contrary to what you believed, Dean just smiled and snorted. Little did you know that he had the same speech with his brother not so long ago. 'I will die with a gun in my hand. That's what I have waiting for me,' he had said, while Sam gave him his best puppy-eyed expression of hurt. Now, he saw what it was like to be on the receiving end, to be the one to hear that. He smile grew larger, understanding that you were just like him, waiting for your warrior death with pride, your perfect ending. He chuckled before answering you.

"Yeah, capiche."

You nodded in response, feeling satisfied with that. Feeling Dean's gaze on you, you looked up again. His olive eyes bore into yours for a while before they flickered down to your body, glinting with the clear intent on being naughty tonight. Seeing him be his flirty self, you couldn't help but laugh - or giggle because the sound came more high-pitched than you wanted -, making his plump lips curl adorably. He moved his left hand to yours, intertwining his fingers in yours, looking all smug and so... Dean. For a split of second, you could feel the electricity between you two, a real current that travelled along your spine, sending goosebumps all over your skin. 

"Dean Winchester," you purred, a pink shade spreading across your cheeks, "are you seducing me?"

"I certainly am" he muttered with that husky voice of his.

Before you could express your incredulity, his lips were crashing into yours, his rough palms already under your shirt, brushing your skin. You leaned into him, helping him take your top off and only breaking the kiss to gently claim his lips again. His hands went farther up and unclasped your bra with only one snap of the fingers. While his skilled right hand worked it off, his left cupped your breast, pressing it with care, his thumb lightly brushing your nipple. You let out a content sigh, biting his lower lips teasingly, while your hands guided his shirt over his head. You growled against his mouth.

"You want more? I like that..." Dean chuckled between two kisses.

A hand got lost in your hair as he pushed you back onto the mattress. The other went to your ass, squeezing it tenderly. He cuddled against your neck, breathing your scent in before tracing the vein of your neck with his tongue. You caressed his broad shoulders, burying your nose in his hair. He smelled so good, like mint air conditioner and gunmetal, tinged with some sort of musky cologne. He kissed your collarbone and the top of your breast and unbuttoned your jeans. He peeled the pants off you, leaving a trail of kisses on your tights. You could see a teasing smirk appear on Dean's face as he took off your panties and it grew wider and wider when he tossed it on the floor.

Spreading your legs with his rough palms, he kissed up your thigh, locked eyes with yours and, grinning widely, slipped a finger against your slick folds. You whimpered, reaching for him, eyes half-closed. Sensing your hands searching for him, Dean raised himself to you and kissed you, his fingers still pumping in and out of you. Now in a hurry, you undid his pants, lowered them and his boxers down his tights and removed all of them by wrapping your legs around his and letting them pool around his ankles. He stepped out of it and continued his magic on you. You exhaled sharply as his thumb found your clit and began to rub it with smooth, circling movements.

"You son of a bitch!" You moaned, hitching a breath.

"Kinda rude," he mocked, his lips stretching into a smirk again. "But... still hot."

Your laugh was cut off by a cry of pleasure when you felt his fingers curl into your sweet spot, hitting it repeatedly. You could feel your juices dripping on his hands, asking, begging for more. You felt his hard member caressing your ass in a very sensual dance, beads of precum wetting your skin. Then you met them again, those gorgeous green eyes, gleaming with lust and pride, and you felt your heart beat like mad your chest, leaving you a bit dizzy and making you smile happily. With trembling fingers, your wrapped your hand around his shaft and stroke him spasmodically, writhing as pleasure threatened to engulf you completely.

"Dean... I... want you... in me," you stuttered, pressing your forehead against his. "I'm... close."

"How can I refuse when you ask so nicely" he chuckled, his words wavering with need.

Withdrawing his fingers, Dean guided his tip to your entrance and pushed himself inside you, hard and slow. You quickly covered your mouth to stifle your loud moan in order to avoid some awkward situation with Sam. At first, he was moving slowly but he quickly reached a rapid pace, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Damn, you're tight," he murmured, his eyes shut tight.

His thrusts were strong and quick, going deeper and deeper each time. You found yourself gripping his forearms, gasping for air as a familiar heat was slowly building up in your insides. Dean nipped gently at your ear, whispering sweet things and dirty wishes to you, and cupped your tit in his hand, teasing your nipple with one finger. Getting the most aroused you had ever been in your life, you met each of his thrust eagerly, turned on by his grunts of pleasure as your insides sucked him over and over.

"You goddamn tease..." he whispered, his smirk faltering a bit. You cried out as he positioned himself differently and hit your g-spot, your fingers holding his biceps tighter. Feeling you squirm under him, he quickened his pace, thrusting with all precision and the intensity you needed to send you over the edge. You opened your mouth, screaming silently of pleasure, and shut your eyes tight as you felt a powerful orgasm explode between your legs. Your walls tightened violently around Dean, making him groan. As you shivered, you wrapped your arms around him and clawed his back as you moved together, moaning in pleasure. You whispered his name, again and again in his ear, with that needy, hungry voice he liked, and it was enough to undo him completely.

"Son of a-" He began, cut off by his own orgasm washed over him, and threw his head back in pleasure.

He pressed you against his chest, burying his nose in your hair and groaned loudly as he came hard, shaking with the intensity of his climax until he collapsed on you. You were both sweaty and tired and it took a little while for both of you to catch your breath.

"God that was..." you trailed off, brushing your sticky hair out of your face.

"Yeah, I know," He replied with a cocky smile. Pulling you in a sweet embrace, he placed a kiss on your hair and rested his cheek against your head. You pulled the blankets over you and you felt him sighing with content.

"Y'were 'mazing too, y'know," he yawned.

"Yeah I know, tiger." You giggled, nuzzling into his neck. Feeling him drifting into sleep, you make yourself comfortable, your body pressed against his, and closed your eyes.

"Night, Dean."

"Night baby..."


End file.
